Gotta Believe It
Just Blaze (Saigon) Whoa-ohh, we keep risin to the top Whoa-ohh, and keep eyes out for the cops Whoa-OHH! And that's what it's gon' be Whoa-OHH! Cause you ain't gon' stop me They got you workin two jobs tryin to make ends meet You just tryin to keep yo' kids off the street You gotta believe it (best believe if you dream it) Oh, you better believe it (you too can achieve it) Uh-oh, they got you locked in a hole, 19 years old Ten years, no chance for parole You better believe it (that's right, tell 'em again) Oh, you gotta believe it (after that, tell a friend) Ohhh-ohhh Saigon: After the sunshine come the rain, after the fun time come the pain I often wonder if it's gonna change I caught a bad case of Smack-a-Bitchy-Itis (what happened?) I came home, my wife got my daughter in shitty diapers (damn) The rice is still raw, and the meat is still frozen in the freezer I hate that I'm too close to her to leave her Either I hit the street to do some pitchin, knowin these dudes is snitchin Or die tryin to make it as a musician My livin condition is not in the greatest position (nope) And nah I ain't bitchin, I just gotta make a decision Should I breeze past, hop out in a ski mask Rob everything movin and cruise in a G-Class (vroom!) But keep writin the heat that the street like it Young'uns is recitin my lyrics, so keep bitin Y'all niggaz thinkin shit is easy, it's hard One thing I know I'm a do is keep believin, keep believin in God Chorus Saigon: After the fast songs come the slow, after the sad songs come some mo' (mo') This is the life I have come to know Police is in Marquis', Chevy Caprices stroll The young hood boogers idolize Keyshia Cole The rap figures throwin money in the air like it's pizza dough People in the hood ain't eatin though (though) I tried to help the labels see the vision But they lowered me to a subdivision, you gotta be fuckin kiddin They'd rather me pretend to be somethin I'm not I'm the new Public Enemy, I'm different than Yung Joc And nah, I ain't dissin, this nigga's up in the Forbes Shit I ain't made a dollar tryin to rap for the cause But in these next four bars, I'll tell you about maleviolent laws They enforcin on North American shores Dawg, if they could have rifles on their farms Then I don't see why they knocked T.I. for tryin to bear arms Chorus Saigon: Tell 'em wave at the artist, I feel like I'll make it regardless Don't forget I'm the ex-con that made it the farthest (yup) Until the day that I lay with the martyrs Or until the day I'm parlayin, playin with my sons and my daughters (uh) I'm a remain the smartest, hardest workin nigga in the business Just Blaze, can I get a witness? {YESSIR!} See that they probably get it if I come out and flop Get dropped, go back to my block and get shot (pop) As they puttin my body in that life-size Ziplock Then you'll be sayin "Damn, Giddy died for this hip-hop" Or maybe it'll tell you to get locked To another 20 in the rock for them to give me my props Whatever the case may be You do a census on who is the sickest lyricist, they say me And that's without a album out, y'all rated me I drop one and I'm a bow out gracefully Chorus Just Blaze Keep keep keep rising, whoa-ohh Keep keep keep rising, whoa-OHH! Keep keep keep rising, whoa-OHH! Keep keep keep rising, whoa-ohh Whoo! We on the radio (we on the radio!) Yo turn up the radio! (we on the radio) Yo we got one, now we got the game on lock! changing stations Turn it up! C'monnnnn We got on the radio Category:Saigon